


Sinful Cycles

by Bathea



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bathea/pseuds/Bathea
Summary: The legendary bond between Lothiriel and Eomer of Rohan inspired many a Rohirric bard. Yet no other than Erwin of Dalgaard was able to capture their passionate essence in the so called Sinful Cycles…





	Sinful Cycles

**Gluttony (Second Song)**

_Adventures of Kunglig_ _M_ es

_Drink up, Lords!_

_Drink up, Ladies!_

_When all yearn for ale,_

_there's just one who'd bail._

_The frilly, the frolic mes_

_known fare and wide for his prowess._

* * *

"You know, I finally came to realise how much your brother must hate my guts."

Lothiriel who had leaned comfortably against her husband's broad chest turned her head in surprise.

"Would you care to elaborate your assessment, dear husband?" Her sea-green eyes bore directly into his soul. In all fairness, he had never been able to deny her anything - even from the first day they met.

He bent down to kiss the tip of her nose. "You know, the gift Amrothos so generously bestowed upon us this Yule. I believe he took most of it for himself - What's that drink called again?"

Lothiriel grinned broadly and relaxed back into the warm tub while enjoying the tender caresses of Eomer's fingers against her thighs.

"It's called Champagne. It's quite popular among..."

"Prissy lords and ladies who can't hold their liquor -" Eomer nipped at her neck for emphasis which evoked a soft moan from her throat that swiftly turned into laughter. Her deep, throaty chuckles aroused him as he felt them rippling and expanding in her chest.

"Unfortunately, drinking contests are not one of our strong suits. As you are aware, Amrothos is regularly being reminded of his shortcomings when he visits."

He didn't answer right away, as he explored the soft junction between her legs while trailing hot kisses up to her ear shell.

"Oh, I believe people can change their ways. They just have to try hard enough."

Before his fingers could slip through her sweet folds, a warm hand swiftly grasped them.

A flash of white teeth distracted him for a mere moment before warm lips met his own.

Lothiriel had shifted so she knelt between his legs. Her hands came to grasp either side of his face.

"Don't make promises you can't keep yourself, my love." His eyes were fixed on her mysterious smile as she rose from the warm water. Her beckoning physique enticed him long enough to notice that she had climbed out of the bathtub.

"And where do you think you are going? We are definitely not done here."

She stepped over the soft woolen rugs, purposefully leaving her bathrobe behind. Droplets of water on her back glistened in the candlelight like fiery diamonds. Eomer swallowed as the pressure in his groin started to rise considerably.

She eyed him coquettishly. "Oh don't I know it. Wait for me?"

And with that, she disappeared into their dark chambers, her return as uncertain as her words.

Eomer sighed audibly, his hand combing through his hair in annoyance. Why, oh why did he have to bring up Amrothos? He silently cursed under his breath as he imagined his brother-in-law probably rejoicing in the fact that he could stop him from having very satisfactory marital relations, the self-righteous little prick.

The pressure in his groin lessened somewhat as he shifted his large frame so that he lay in the water while bedding his head on his crossed arms which rested on the side of the tub.

This Yule had been nothing but spectacular, as had been Amrothos's generous gifts which had surprised the whole family. Usually, he kept "the good stuff" as he had so proudly proclaimed to his annoyed household. But this year, he boasted of his generosity to all who cared to listen. These generous gifts had consisted of four boxes of frilly stuff or "Champagne" - a product of a good harvest as he had assured him. Quite frankly, Eomer was not really keen on finding out what a bad harvest was - this bubbly stuff was just the epitome of noble Gondorean pretentiousness.

Eomer let out an involuntary chuckle as he pondered how very little his boasting had helped Amrothos prevail in the Yule drinking contest. Despite his efforts, Amrothos had not been able to shake his pet name _kunglig mes._

Before he could curse Amrothos into oblivion, a slight clinking sound captured his attention. There, in the golden light of the candles gleamed a dark green bottle of frilly-

"Champagne, my love ?"

Her eyes shone with mirth as her slim fingers grasped the bottleneck.

He furrowed his brows. "Well, it doesn't really do much for me, love. It's just really my cup of -"

Her smile -if at all possible- grew larger. She climbed over the edge of the tub and leaned against it. One of her slim legs wound itself around his torso, almost pinning him to her. He was so close that he could smell her sweetness.

"Have you tried it from a different vessel?" He looked at her in shock, his mind went blank at her suggestion. Lothiriel, in turn, pulled out the cork from the bottle and spread her legs for him.

His throat went dry as he felt the fire in his loins burning him from the inside out. Tenderly, he rose to his knees. Only then was he able to catch the first, sweet drop that threatened to slide from her precious pearl. Never in his life had he tasted something so exquisite. As streams of bubbling spirit followed the glistening, wet path down her navel, he swore he would track down every available flask of bubbly swill. Anything, just to hear her scream like that.

* * *

kunglig mes - (Swedish) royal wimp


End file.
